


All In

by FreshBrains



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Begging, Community: rounds_of_kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant Finn, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Poe Dameron, Post-Movie(s), Scars, Training, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7224640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn's face was twisted into a grimace, but not one of pain—one of intense concentration. It was a look that said <i>I can be better</i>. It was a look that scared Poe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All In

**Author's Note:**

> For the LJ rounds_of_kink Round 28 prompt: _Any, any, wish fulfilment and well-fucked, Can't say no to you._

There are a many sides to Finn. Poe’s making it his mission to see them all.

Ever since Finn’s attack, he seems to be constantly reining himself in. He spent long days in the gym on base with his physical therapist and a small squadron of med-droids, working his body to the very limit, every muscle working beautifully under his smooth skin, sweat rolling down his chest. His face was always twisted into a grimace, but not one of pain—one of intense concentration. It was a look that said _I can be better_. It was a look that scared Poe.

“Your stitches popped again,” Poe says, trying to be casual about it as he slips out of his flightsuit at the foot of their shared bed. They don’t qualify for married housing on base (yet), but they’re both used to small spaces.

Finn cranes his neck to try to see his back in the mirror. His strong back is bisected by a long, jagged scar, a dusty-pink burn streak against his dark skin. At the edges, where the skin is drying and healing, his constant exertion is breaking the mended areas apart, bringing pinpricks of blood to the surface. “Oh, yeah. It happens.”

“It shouldn’t,” Poe says stubbornly, kneeling behind Finn on the bed with a small tube of bacta-gel. “Maybe you should listen to the General. Take some time off, go visit Rey. She misses you.”

“Rey is training,” Finn says with a sigh. “And so am I. If I want—if _we_ want to dig deeper into the First Order, I need to get back into shape. Like, _yesterday_.”

Poe is quiet for a moment, letting his hand wander down Finn’s back and waist, feeling his body move with his breathing. He leans in and presses a soft kiss right above the top of Finn’s scar. “You were sliced by a lightsaber,” he says quietly, murmuring against Finn’s skin. “I’ve seen men and women, soldiers, _warriors_ , die in agony like that. By fire and blasters. You survived what shouldn’t have been survivable.”

Finn turns to face Poe, pulling the other man into his arms. “Hey, come on. We’re both survivors. We’re damn good at it, right?”

Poe laughs despite himself, curling up in Finn’s lap. He’s not used to being the smaller man in a relationship. He’s not tall—that’s a given—but he’s _strong_ , has always been able to hold his partner up or down. With Finn, he likes the feeling of being enveloped, of melting into Finn’s body. “So far, so good. But that doesn’t mean I can’t worry. My dad was always a worrier, you know.”

“I’ve met Kes Dameron. With a son like his, he _should_ worry,” Finn teases, leaning down to kiss at Poe’s neck. They stay like that for a while, kissing and touching, enjoying each other’s bodies in the privacy of their small quarters. “I’ll slow down a little. I promise.”

For now, that’s good enough for Poe. He’s leaving on mission in two nights and won’t be back for a week. It’s not the longest they’ve been apart since they met, but it’s long enough. “Thank you,” he whispers, kissing Finn on the cheek.

Finn smiles, but he’s still wound up like a spring, tightly coiled and ready to unload.

*

It turns out that a week is far, far too long.

Poe knows for a fact that the solid durasteel doors of each room on base are heavy and thick enough to withstand explosions and blaster fire. He _knows_ this, because he’s a soldier and he knows his base, which is why he has no compulsions whatsoever about Finn pressing him up against it and going to town.

Finn’s hands are everywhere—big and burning hot, his fingers long and thick, pressing bruises and crescent-moons into Poe’s hips and thighs. His mouth follows suit, littering Poe’s neck with bites and sucking kisses. Poe arches into it, moaning when Finn grasps his hair and tugs his neck to the side so he can clamp down his teeth and _bite_.

“You have no idea…how you _look_ , how much I want…” Finn’s words are soft and garbled against Poe’s skin, his breathing labored. “You’re all I think about. When you’re here, when you’re gone. You drive me _crazy_.”

Poe melts against the door, body going slack, legs parting around Finn’s rutting hips. It’s possibly the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to him. He cradles Finn’s face in his hands, urging him to look him in the eye. “I love you. I really do.”

Finn’s eyes are dark and intense, brow furrowed, mouth a grim line. Poe realizes with a cool shudder that this is a side of Finn he hasn’t seen. This is Finn when he’s not second-guessing himself, when he’s not holding back his emotions, when he’s not trying to be the perfect soldier that the First Order raised him to be. “I really love you too, Poe Dameron.”

Poe grins—he can’t help it, can’t help that he feels like he’s bursting apart at the seams every time Finn is near him. He wraps his arms around Finn’s neck and cants his hips into Finn’s leg, wanting Finn to feel how hard he is, how ready.

And Finn does feel it. He growls, low and hot in his throat, and slams his hips into Poe’s, _hard_. Poe’s back bangs against the door, hair flopping into his eyes. Finn curls his hands around Poe’s thighs and lifts him, easy as anything, bracing him against the door. “Wrap your legs around me,” he instructs, voice as authoritative as any General’s. “Hold on tight.”

Poe feels his weight lift off the floor, feels Finn snug him up against the door, every inch of their bodies pressed tight together. He twines his arms around Finn’s neck, and as his wrists bump the top notch of Finn’s spine, Finn hisses in pain through his teeth.

Frowning, Poe instantly moves his hands. “Sorry, I’m sorry…your back. We should get on the bed.”

“ _No_ ,” Finn says, voice hard with emotion. He buries his face in Poe’s neck, breathing in his scent. “None of that. No, ‘Finn, let’s lie down,’ or ‘Finn, let’s go slower.’” He looks up, and there’s that _look_ again, that fire in his eyes, and Poe’s spine goes liquid, his cock jumps where it’s still trapped in his underwear. “I’m going to fuck you against the door. Hard as I want. Please, let me do this.” He nuzzles at Poe’s chin, bites at his jaw. “Please. For me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Poe says softly, the words aching in his throat.

“You could never hurt me,” Finn says fiercely. “Ever.” Poe realizes that he doesn’t mean physical pain. That sort of pain means little to Finn. “Please,” he says again, peeling back Poe’s underwear, squeezing his ass hard enough to bruise. It makes Poe feel like he’s flying. “Please, baby.”

That’s the final straw, the thing that makes Poe’s resolve crack into a thousand pieces. “As if I could deny you anything,” he says, half-sobbing, and arches his back, pressing his hips into Finn’s. “Fuck me. _Fuck_ me, right here.”

After that, Poe’s vision shorts in on one thing and one thing only—Finn’s eyes, the burning intensity of them, the way his pupils are blown completely black. He doesn’t know where Finn got their tube of lubricant, doesn’t know how it ended up in Finn’s hand. His world belongs to Finn, to his mouth, to his touch, to the words he murmurs into Poe’s neck as he crooks a slick finger inside of him.

“You’re…you’re _mine_ , you’re mine,” Finn says, and his voice is different than any other time Poe has heard him speak. It’s hoarse, low, loaded with emotion. He’s not calculating his words to find out which ones will land. Finn is quick with a laugh and a smile; he allows himself to _feel_. But this goes beyond feeling. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“All yours, buddy,” Poe whispers, then slams his eyes shut, mouth open in a silent scream against Finn’s neck when Finn lines his cock up and snaps his hips, hard and smooth. Poe feels like he was made for this, made to take what Finn wants to give him.

It’s freeing. Now he knows what it means to keep things locked up without even realizing it. With one hand, he reaches down between their bodies to tug at his cock, and with the other, he places his palm in the middle of Finn’s back. “Take me,” he says, and scores his nails up Finn’s spine. Finn is still wearing his undershirt; there will be no blood, no tearing of scars.

But Finn groans out in pain, hips grinding into Poe, fucking him mercilessly into the wall. Poe’s sweaty back makes a spectacular, sticky _thump-thump-thump_ against the durasteel, shoulder blades aching on contact. Finn moves his hands down to Poe’s ass, holding him wide, making him take his cock exactly how he wants him to take it. The tip of his middle finger finds Poe’s rim and tugs, making Poe go weak with pleasure-pain.

“Take me,” Poe says again, words garbled under his haze of pleasure. “I’m right here. Make me yours.”

Finn fucks him with short thrusts, short and brutal and harder than they’ve ever dared before. He’s sweating, body slick and dark, and Poe feels wet from the waist down—his cock leaks into his hand, lube and Finn’s pre-come drip down his thighs. Poe can see them in the mirror, the way Finn totally envelopes him. All Poe can see of himself are his legs twined around Finn’s waist and crossed at the ankle, his arms rucking up Finn’s undershirt. One hand is fisted in the material, stretching and wrinkling it.

“Come inside of me,” Poe says, teeth grazing Finn’s ear.

And when Finn does come, it’s with a roar like an untamed animal, like something trapped in a cage for too long and finally released into its true home. His fingers push bruises into Poe’s hips, his teeth worry ridges into the juncture between Poe’s neck and shoulder. When pulls out, panting so hard his chest heaves, Poe places one foot on the floor, easing their bodies apart, feeling Finn’s come slick his ass and thighs.

“No more worrying,” he says, breathless, still clinging to Finn, not wanting to let him go.

“You’ll still worry,” Finn says, nosing at Poe’s sweaty hair. “But that’s okay with me.”


End file.
